


Unremembered

by yet_intrepid



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Day At The Beach, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 00:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10477731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: They're going to the beach. That's all, Jyn tells herself. That's all.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nimueailinen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimueailinen/gifts).



“Jyn!” Cassian calls, and she whirls at some hint of desperation in his voice—but it’s imagined desperation, she tells herself firmly, as she sights his smile. He’s waving her back to their car, looking handsome and a little ridiculous in his blue swim trunks and beach hat. “Come help me with the cooler?”

“Just a second,” Jyn calls back, doing her best to summon an answering smile. She breathes in. Breathes out. Closes her eyes a moment against the glare of the sun on the water, the anxiety she feels sink into her from the grit between her toes.

 Then she opens her eyes again and tells herself to stop being ridiculous. Pulling her bare feet from the sand that sucks her downwards, she turns to see Cassian loading up his arms with the cooler, the towels, the sunscreen, the hat he insisted on bringing for her although she insisted in turn that she wouldn’t wear it.

“Hey,” she protests, “I said I was coming,” and starts wading through the sand towards him. He picks up everything anyway, using his chin to keep the pile of stuff from falling, and the pained concentration on his face twinges at something deep inside of her.

She doesn’t understand it. But there’s always been something about Cassian that makes her feel—not old, exactly, and certainly not wise, but heavy, weighted down with something unremembered. And there’s something about today, especially, about their first time coming to the beach together. As she rescues the tumbling towels and hat, Jyn wonders if Cassian feels it too.

If he does, he hides it well. But that’s something about Cassian, too—he’s always been unnaturally good at hiding.

“I think we got here just in time to see the sunset,” he says, a soft smile on his lips. They head down towards the waves together; Jyn breathes in. Breathes out. Takes in the salt and the wind and the warm smell of sunlight. And, as Cassian sets down the cooler, takes his hand.

Quiet delight spreads over his face and he turns to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders, and then they are stumbling, falling, and Jyn breathes in and breathes out but it’s like there’s no air. Nothing moves but her, and Cassian, and the cutting pain between them, and the sunlight that grows and grows.

“Your father,” he says—and how does he know, the rational part of Jyn thinks desperately, she’s never spoken to him about her father—“your father would’ve been proud of you.” And then he buckles, and she pulls him close and she is crying—why is she crying?—and all she knows is that this feels like a kind of death.

But it is the kind of death she would want, and she doesn’t know how she knows that other than that Cassian is here, here, holding her, and she feels like she has finally done something worth doing.

Jyn lays her head on Cassian’s shoulder, and Cassian tucks his face against her neck, and the sunlight grows until it is some kind of monster, all glorious and white. 


End file.
